


The Author, Bared

by FanGirlyGlee



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hot Lovin, M/M, PWP, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlyGlee/pseuds/FanGirlyGlee
Summary: Mick has an idea for a fantasy scenario, but it's more than just fun.





	The Author, Bared

Mick entered Ray’s lab and proceeded to feign interest in what was on the whiteboard, while the scientist smiled to himself. They both knew full well that Mick only came into the lab when he was called, or needed something. Returning the new shrinking gauntlet safely to its case, Ray turned, and gave his partner his full attention.

“What can I do for you?” The other man continued fiddling with the kinetic sculpture on the edge of Ray's desk. “Hello, Mick. Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Huh?”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, or do we play twenty questions?”

“You know that time you pretended that I was Buck, and you were from one of his adventures?”

“Yes.” Ray bit his tongue to keep from excitedly interrupting Mick’s plodding effort to get to the point.

“That was fun.”

“And hot?” 

“Definitely,” Mick agreed. “I was wonderin’ if you’d wanna do something like that again sometime.” 

“Sure. Would _you _like to come up with a scene to act out? After all, you know what Buck likes.” 

Mick looked embarrassed for a moment, then pulled some papers from his back pocket and held them out to Ray. “I wrote it down,” he explained while avoiding eye contact. “It’s not from a story – not yet anyway.” Sensing that there was more at stake here than a fantasy, Ray put a lid on his eagerness. 

“Sounds great. Do you want to hang around while I read it?”

“Nah,” the author replied quickly. “Just let me know if you think it’s something that could work for you.”

As Ray had come to expect from Mick’s writing, the piece drew him from the very beginning. Despite the explicit subject matter, the tone was sterile in some parts, and unexpectedly tender in others. It was written from Buck’s point of view, and in fact, Mick didn’t mention himself by name anywhere in the piece. Ray had been cast as Buck’s adversary in a scenario with forceful undertones, but was ultimately very clear on the issue of consent. Ray got out a pen to make notes. He was determined to show his boyfriend a good time.

“When and where?” he inquired after dinner. 

“Can’t do it on the ship,” Mick stated firmly. “I know a place.”

When there was time for a break, the pair made their excuses and took the jump ship. Mick was silent during the flight. “Are you feeling all right?” Ray asked. “We don’t have to do this today if you’re not up to…”

“I want to,” came the curt reply, followed by a deep sigh. “I want to do this. I’m just...nervous I guess. Never told anybody about wanting anything like this before.” He twitched when Ray put a hand on his leg. “Haircut, if you’re not sure you…”

“Aren’t you always telling me not to overthink things?” That earned a small smirk. 

“Yeah, I hear ya. Anyways, no one comes to this place. I’ll double check while you get ready.”

Ray concealed his surprise at finding that their exotic locale was in fact a warehouse containing slabs and columns made of marble. He helped Mick create a table of sorts and light the small torches they brought with them. It wasn’t very romantic, and didn’t look especially comfortable. “I’ll give you some privacy, all right? Call me over when you’re prepared.” Mick grunted, which Ray supposed was part of getting into character.

Xxx

Buck stretched his arms over his head and dug his toes into the bare floor beside the altar. It was a chilly night, and he knew it was only going to get worse without anything covering his skin. He wasn’t embarrassed to be naked in this dark place. His body was strong; his scars a testament to his endurance. The townspeople had thanked him profusely for his willingness to offer himself in place of one of their own. Though Buck would have preferred to show them what he thought of jerks in robes who took advantage of others, he knew a fight wasn’t always the best way out of a difficult situation. He steeled himself mentally and climbed up onto the cold marble. Once he was flat on his back he called out, “Ready when you are.”

Someone stepped out from behind a broken pillar. He was wearing a robe; not a normal bathrobe, but a vestment. Buck met his gaze, unflinching. The man's appearance was different from what he’d expected. He wasn’t old, and he didn’t seem to be the sort of person that who lusted over young women and found some excuse to _counsel_ them in private. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Then the man smiled, and it sent a shiver up his spine. His dark eyes were bright and slightly malevolent in the torch light. “Disappointed?” Buck was surprised when he spoke. “I suppose you were expecting a hunchback, or an octogenarian. Our goddess welcomes all, and this moon she has chosen me to accept your offering.” He spoke affably as he ran his fingers over the tips of Buck’s toes. “I know you don’t believe. You think you’re doing a noble thing to spare someone what you’re sure is a traumatic experience. That’s why you volunteered, isn’t it?”

“Girl said the goddess demanded sacrifice. She’s had enough trouble in her life.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Actually, she hasn’t. Oh, you saved her family from the raiders, that’s true, but her life has been relatively easy compared to some – yours I'll bet. No doubt she was nervous about her role in this ritual. Virgins are often skittish. But I assure you that it would not have been any more unpleasant for her than it will be for you – at least not intentionally. I take my vows seriously, Buck.” He pulled back his cowl, revealing soft black hair framing his, admittedly, handsome face. He produced a clay pot, and took a pinch of something in his fingers. He then threw powder on the torches while muttering as they flared brightly. “Most holy of mothers, this one comes to give of his flesh to your servant,” he intoned, eyes closed. 

The priest then set down the pot and reached into his robe to retrieve a vial containing some sort of sweet-smelling oil, which he used to anoint Buck’s temples, navel, and knees. His touch was light; reverent. “Admittedly it’s no hardship to me most times.” He continued his casual exposition. “There is joy in fulfilling one’s duty. Shall we begin?”

Buck turned his head away, finding the man’s searching expression disquieting. He would bear whatever was to come. More oil was spread across Buck’s chest and the man began kneading his pectoral muscles, pausing to rub his peaked nipples. Buck closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He’d known this would be difficult, but the current of arousal that traveled from his chest to his genitals was embarrassing. The priest chuckled. “Ahh, there we are, not made of stone after all.” Buck’s eyes snapped open and he glared. The man laughed. “The ritual is meant to be enjoyable, Buck. The sacrifice isn’t the act itself, but what flows from you and through me. Give me your pleasure and the goddess will give you her blessings. Oh, and feel free to make any sounds you like. Your sighs, or screams, are hymns of praise.”

The man then let his robe fall to the floor. He was naked beneath it, and obviously aroused. Buck felt himself stir. He’d admired men’s bodies before, though the strength of his reaction was unusual. He wondered if perhaps there was some aphrodisiac in the oil. His breath quickened as large hands returned to massaging his warming body. “Relax,” the man whispered. “Close your eyes if you want. I’ll tell you what I’m doing to put you at ease. At the moment I’m going to rub down your legs; get you used to my touch.” 

Buck’s limbs grew heavy as he surrendered to the other man’s caresses. It seemed natural after a while for his legs to part slightly to allow long fingers access to his tensed thighs. “I’m going to touch your penis now.” Buck gasped and bit his lip in embarrassment. Due to his refusal to watch he was forced to assume that what he felt was the man was using his index fingers to trace the length of Buck’s…was he actually afraid to say the word in his own mind? Was he so used to euphemisms that he’d forgotten it had a proper name? He’d been familiar with his own cock and what it liked for over forty years. “And your testicles,” the priest added, cupping the swelling sacs in his palm. “You know, it’s been some time since I conducted this ritual with a man, and then it’s always been a youngster that I have to soothe over and over again until he gives into his arousal. This is a welcome change. I’m going to get up on the altar with you, Buck. I’m going to kneel between your legs.”

“Why?” Buck found himself asking. 

“Why what? Why am I telling you what I’m doing? Don’t you deserve to know what is happening – what I will do?”

Buck didn’t know how to answer. He knew the right answer was yes, but at that moment he was thrown by the fact that no one had ever asked that question of him before. 

“I’m going to put my mouth on your penis now.”

The feeling was indescribable. “Haaa,” he breathed softly, giving in to the heat and wetness. His abs contracted and he gripped the sides of the altar to keep himself from thrusting. He felt guilty as he thought of how it was never that good with his last sexual partner. Garima was rarely gentle. He found the courage to open eyes, but with no clock or moon to give him some indication of the passage of time he felt adrift in the dim light. How long was Ra-the priest going to do that? Surely his jaw was sore and he was bored of it. Buck risked a glance down and found that the sight of those big brown eyes was too much. He threw his head back, bumping it painfully on the marble. 

Gentle hands returned to his thighs, moving them apart. “I’m going to touch your entrance now. I know you got yourself ready, but I must be sure that you are fully prepared.” Buck steeled himself, but the lubricant was warm. “You’re doing very well.” The priest’s voice was soothing. Buck bit back a moan. “Your body is a fitting offering. It is strong and beautiful.” He shook his head reflexively. “My judgement stands, Buck. You are magnificent and I am fortunate to share this time with you.”

He wanted to tell the man to stop; not to lie like that. No one could possibly want this old, used up hunk of meat like that. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The man was supposed to take -

“I’m going to insert a finger into your anus.”

He whimpered, but nothing happened. It took a few seconds to control his breathing and find his center again. “I am ready,” he said at last. 

Ray went slowly and used plenty of oil. There was no burn. That was always the worst part. They never let him get used to the friction before they turned up the speed. No! He wasn’t back there. He was on a stone altar, not the metal table in that vile place. No one was watching him now, judging, waiting for him to slip up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm and nodded when Ray said, “Adding a finger.”

On and on it went. He moaned hesitantly at first, working his way through embarrassed pants and grunts, as if years of pent up expression were finally free to make their way into the world. Finally, when he was wet and open, he heard, “I’m going to penetrate you now.” Then there was an intense sensation of fullness. He bore down as Ray thrust into him. They rocked together, their bodies generating a heat he could practically see rising off their skin. It struck him funny to think now that he finally knew why men loved each other this way. It wasn’t just for the payoff, it was for this – the raw pleasure that could be shared between people who...who cared for each other. Who were _allowed_ to feel.

The word echoed in his head and reminded him of a dark time. No! He wouldn't ever hear that monotone voice in his skull again. He’d banished it with drink, souring his stomach with the strongest liquors he could find. He needed this to kill the last remnant of that armored monster that had once used his face. “You can't have this,” he gritted out. Mick cried out in desperation. “This is mine!”

Ray buried himself deep and pressed his chest to Mick’s, speaking directly into his ear. “I will give you whatever you want, Mick. I don’t care what you call yourself: Buck, Heatwave, or even Chronos. I love all of you.”

There was light, but no sound. It was a perfectly cold beer, a jump into the temporal zone, his skin melting, and holding his first book in his hands all at once. When he came back to himself, he was holding on to Ray and sobbing. They were kissing and hugging and it was the most perfect moment, or it would have been were it not for the rapidly cooling stickiness between his thighs and on his belly. Then he heard the rat-a-tap-tap of water on the roof of the building. “It’s raining,” he said. 

Ray got to his feet and helped Mick sit up. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested. Mick held his lover’s hand tightly and followed him out into the downpour. The large drops were warm and pelted the concrete. He mussed Ray’s hair and they laughed like children as they rinsed off. 

Mick let Ray pilot the jump ship as they returned to the Waverider. “You went off script,” he said, pretending to scold his boyfriend. 

Ray smiled. “What you wrote was good. I just thought maybe it wasn’t quite what you needed. Was I wrong?”

“Nah, Haircut. That was a hell of a happy ending.”


End file.
